


The Tide

by Weregirl



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, BDSM, Bondage, Dom!John, M/M, Punishment, Sex Toys, sub!Sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-24
Updated: 2014-01-24
Packaged: 2018-01-07 16:40:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1122129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Weregirl/pseuds/Weregirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bunch of Johnlock drabbles. Most will be explicit, most can be read alone. I will add tags as I go along.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is not betaed, nor britpicked. All faults are my own. This is my first Johnlock fic, so feel free to leave criticism or comments so I can get better.

John let out an exasperated sigh. Sherlock took no heed of it however, continuing to be a complete prat going on and on in his deductions. It had been a bad week for both of them, this being the first somewhat interesting case in weeks, and even then it was only a three.  
“I fail to see what on earth compelled you to call me on a case as simple as this! A five year old could figure it out faster than you lot!” Sherlock stated after giving his deductions and solving the case in less than an hour.  
“Sherlock.” John said, attempting to get Sherlock's attention before he said something worth punishing him over.  
“Watch it Freak,” Donovan warned.  
“I see Anderson's wife is away again. Have you been helping scrub floors again?” Sherlock snarked.  
“Sherlock,” John said a touch louder, still with no result.  
“Oi! Sherlock, I appreciate the help but there is no need--” Lestrade was cut off when Sherlock turned that gaze on him.  
“Hmm. Wife's cheating came to a head. Divorce not going well, she fighting you for all your meager possessions?”   
“SHERLOCK!” John barked. He sounded every bit the Captain Watson that he did in Afghanistan. Sherlock's head whipped over to John, he took in the sight of the tightly crossed arms and balled fists. His head dropped enough that John knew his message was received.  
“I am sorry Detective Inspector,” Sherlock grumbled before stalking away.  
Once Sherlock was out of sight John let out a huff of air. “Sorry Greg.”  
Lestrade heaved a sigh before shaking his head. “Go make sure he doesn't cause any issues.”  
John patted his shoulder on the way past him and into the street after Sherlock. John found Sherlock leaning against a wall waiting on him. Sherlock walked forward with his head bowed low and waited for John's instruction.   
“Get a cab,” John said simply, his tone left room for no argument.  
“Yes Captain,” Sherlock said before doing exactly as John ordered.   
John gave the cabbie the address and sat back, silently fuming. Sherlock knew better than to make a noise. Once back at the flat John left Sherlock to pay the cabbie while he unlocked the door. Sherlock walked into the flat behind John.  
“John--” he started but the glare he received in return had him almost shrinking back.   
“To the bedroom. Naked. Presented. Not one word. Go,” John commanded. Sherlock nearly ran to do as he was told. John chose to make a cup of tea and leave the brat waiting.   
Fifteen minutes later John decided Sherlock had been left alone long enough. He pulled off his jumper, leaving the white button up, and walked into the room that was once Sherlock's to see the man himself right where he wanted him. Sherlock had his hands on the bed with his arse on display behind him. His head was bowed and John could already hear small sniffles coming from him.  
John walked around Sherlock to the wardrobe where all of their toys were kept. He opened the bottom drawer and pulled out his old cane. It was a sturdy wood, John had never cared what type, and fairly heavy.   
“Do you know why you are being punished, Sherlock?” John asked still facing the wardrobe.  
“Yes, Sir,” Sherlock whimpered.  
“Why, Sherlock? You seemed happy to babble earlier.”  
“I stole your gun earlier today after you told me not to, I refused to eat, I insulted you, and then I was rude to Lestrade,” Sherlock sniffled out the end, knowing he was in a load of shit.  
“Is that all?” John asked.  
“Yes, Sir, unless there is something else I have done that I hadn't realized,” he said.  
“You also ignored me at the crime scene. I will let that go, however, since you didn't realize it. How many strokes do you deserve, Sherlock?” John asked turning to face the submissive detective.   
Sherlock's head bowed even further, “As many as you think I deserve, Sir.”  
“I think five for each offense is fair, don't you?” John asked  
“Yes, Sir.”  
“And how many will you be receiving?”   
“Twenty, Sir,” Sherlock said.  
John took up his position behind Sherlock. “I will begin now,” John said. Sherlock nodded. A moment later John swung. A hollow thwack was heard before Sherlock cried out, one long red stripe already across his bottom. Sherlock knew he'd be sobbing by the end of the punishment.   
After the first five strokes John paused to allow Sherlock to breathe.  
“What were those five for?” he asked. His voice never wavered, nothing showed any emotion.  
“Stealing your gun, Sir,” Sherlock whimpered, he wasn't quite in tears yet. He could feel five welts already forming.  
“Good boy,” John said. Sherlock soaked in the praise knowing it wouldn't last.  
John set back to work. He could hear Sherlock crying out, though he tuned it out to focus on not breaking his milky white skin.  
Now ten red lines across Sherlock's arse and thighs.   
“What were those for, Sherlock?”  
“Refusing to eat, Sir,” Sherlock's voice shook as tears ran down his face.   
“Good,” John murmured before setting back to work.  
By the time twenty red stripes painted Sherlock's backside, the man was sobbing. Snot, tears, and sweat ran freely down his face.   
“What where those last five for, Sherlock?”   
“Being rude to Lestrade. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry,” Sherlock sobbed out.  
John laid the cane down. “Stand up, Sherlock.”  
When the detective faced John he was pulled into a tight hug.  
“Hush now, you're forgiven. I am so proud of you love,” John said sitting himself on the edge of the bed and manhandling Sherlock into straddling him. Sherlock continued babbling apologies as John held him.  
It took a little while of soothing words into Sherlock's hair before his tears and breathing slowed. Before Sherlock could say anything more John motioned for him to get up. John led Sherlock to the bathroom and started the shower before turning to Sherlock again.   
“Undress me,” he stated simply.  
Sherlock complied beautifully, undoing the buttons of John's shirt gently before pulling it off and putting it in the hamper. Next he knelt down to untie his shoes, setting them off to the side. Next he pulled John's socks off, unbuttoned and zipped his jeans and helped John out of them. He added John's pants to the pile before standing and taking to pile to the hamper.   
“Good boy,” John said running his fingers through Sherlock's messy curls.   
When steam seeped into the room John checked the water temperature and stepped in, motioning for Sherlock to follow. Sherlock let out a hiss as the water hit his sore backside.  
John thoroughly cleaned his sub, massaging shampoo into his scalp and gently scrubbing anti-bacterial soap into is arse and thighs. Once John was finished, he allowed Sherlock to do the same for him.  
Stepping out of the shower John grabbed and towel and gently dried his best friend, lover, and submissive. He grabbed a towel for himself once he had sent Sherlock into the bedroom.   
John walked into the room to see Sherlock laying on his front in the middle of the bed. John smiled and opened the top drawer of the wardrobe to get the lotion before moving back over to Sherlock.  
“You alright?” he murmured working the lotion into hot, abused skin.  
Sherlock let out a happy sigh, “Yes.”  
John smiled, “Good. Anything from it you want to talk about?”   
“No,” Sherlock said simply. Not the short 'change the topic,' but a gentle no. One from a person floating in exhaustion.  
John finished applying the lotion and picked the cane up. He put both objects back in the wardrobe and went to wash his hands. When he came back Sherlock was curled up on his side on top of the duvet. John sighed and went to join him. He managed to maneuver the consulting detective under the cover before joining him. John slotted himself behind Sherlock with his arm thrown over his waist. Sherlock relaxed into the embrace.  
“Your head a little more clear?” John asked gently.  
“Yes. Thank you,” Sherlock sighed.  
John kissed the back of his neck. “You're welcome. I love you.”  
Sherlock rolled over so he could curl his head under John's chin. John could feel the hot puffs of air from Sherlock's breath and smiled, feeling right at home.   
John was drifting off and barely heard the whispered response. “I love you too, John.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning to all. This is my first attempt at writing smut, also I am not in a BDSM relationship, all I know is through research and other fanfictions. Still I hope you enjoy and feel free to leave comments or concerns. Still not betaed or brit-picked, sorry.

John walked into the bedroom with a fresh cup of tea and a glass of water, the latter being irrelevant at the moment. He resolutely did not look at the bed as he walked in, instead going strait for the armchair he and Sherlock had brought in earlier. He sat the glass of water on the table next to the chair before sitting with his tea. From the chair John could see his prize on the bed. A bound, gagged, writhing Sherlock with a vibrator up his arse and a cockring on.  
Sherlock was letting out a continuous string of moans and garbled words from behind the bright red ball-gag. He was tied spread-eagle to the bed, a small wire taped to thigh was the only indicator to his problem.  
John adjusted himself but otherwise acted unfazed by the straining body in front of him as he drank his tea.  
A garbled version of John's name came from behind the gag. John sighed in response and took another sip of tea. “I told you I'd tie you down and leave you. This is what you get for not holding still.”  
Sherlock whined and continued to thrash in his bonds. He was dripping sweat and drooling. Pre-come dripped steadily from his cock. Something that may have been 'please' was all but screamed. John slowly drank his tea and considered what else he could do to the writhing detective.  
John finished his tea and walked over to the wardrobe. He pulled open the second drawer and looked at his selection. Nipple clamps, soundings, plugs and vibrators. John grabbed a pair of clamps and shut the drawer before making his way over to Sherlock. The vibrator had been going on slow against Sherlock's prostate for about half an hour at this point.  
Sherlock's eyes rolled back in his head when he saw what John was holding, John smiled and climbed into the bed and straddled Sherlock. John pinched and rolled Sherlock's nipples, which were sensitive to begin with, and attached the clamps, pulling a high pitch whine from Sherlock's throat.  
“You want to come, don't you Pet?” John asked leaning down to bite and suck at Sherlock's neck.  
Sherlock gave a frantic nod, keening whines the only sound he could make.  
John chuckled and got off the bed. He stripped out of his trousers and pants, tossing them in the hamper, before going to the foot of the bed. He turned off the vibrator and Sherlock writhed even harder, a broken moan let out, as he wasn't sure to be thankful or upset that the stimulation was gone.  
John gently pulled the tape off his leg and pulled the vibrator out. “Shh,” he soothed as Sherlock moaned again.  
John clambered up between Sherlock's legs. John leaned over Sherlock's body until he could lick and suck his way up to his ear. “Do you want me to fuck you?” John whispered into Sherlock's ear before running his tongue along the shell. “Is that what you want, Pet?”  
Sherlock keened and whined, nodding his head.  
John grabbed the lube he had left at Sherlock's hip what seemed like ages ago. John slicked up three of his fingers and roughly shoved two up Sherlock's arse. Sherlock yelped and thrashed and begged while John sucked a bruise on that long pale neck.  
“You're always so damn tight,” John growled angling his fingers to batter Sherlock's swollen prostate. “Maybe I should just leave you plugged up all day so you're always ready for me. Would you like that Pet? Being my little fuck toy? Maybe I should get one that vibrates, stuff it up your arse and turn it on at crime scenes. I bet you wouldn't be so insufferable then would you? I think it would be fun, watching you try to splutter through deductions with a stronger vibrator right on your prostate,” right then John added a third finger, ramming all three straight into his prostate. Sherlock screamed.  
John scissored his fingers, not wanting to hurt his sub, but wanting to get his cock in that beautiful arse quickly. John pulled his fingers out and put more lube on them before closing the cap and tossing the bottle away. John stroked his cock a few times, spreading the lubricant, before lining up at Sherlock's entrance. John slammed home, cursing at the tight, velvet heat that surrounded him. Sherlock let out a muffled scream.  
John fell forward, giving both of them a second to adjust as he pulled the red ball out of Sherlock's mouth. As soon as the gag was gone Sherlock attempted to lunge forward for a kiss that John granted. It barely counted as a kiss, all clashing teeth and tongue. John pulled out before snapping his hips into Sherlock. Sherlock threw his head back with a broken moan.  
“Let me hear you, Sherlock. Don't hold back,” John growled pulling a groan from Sherlock's throat.  
“Please, please, please, please,” was Sherlock's mantra.  
“Is this what you want, Pet?” John purred rhetorically pistoning his hips. The sound of skin hitting skin filled the room. John could feel his orgasm approaching, a coiled spring ready to explode. “Are you close?”  
“Yesssssss,” Sherlock groaned. “Please!”  
John panted, watching sweat drip down Sherlock's face as well as a few tears that leaked out of the corners of his eyes. John could feel it, the tightness in his balls and the familiar heat.  
“Now, Sherlock. Damn it, come now,” John growled. It only took one more thrust before Sherlock's back arched, well as much as it could with him being tied down. It briefly reminded John of a bow string before John was coming as well.  
John barely managed to avoid falling on top of Sherlock, instead rolling to the side to allow both of them to catch their breath for a second. John recovered quickly enough and sat next to Sherlock's prone form. He leaned forward and started gently untying Sherlock's right wrist, then massaged the feeling back into the limb before moving to the other arm. Once confirmed that beyond a little chaffing there had been no damage to the frail looking wrists John moved to get the glass of water off the table. John helped Sherlock into sitting position and sat behind him as something solid to lean against.  
“Sip,” John reminded holding the glass to Sherlock's lips. Sherlock let John control the glass until he had drank half, then he raised his arms to take it for himself. John let him but stayed where he was until Sherlock had finished the glass. Then he moved to untie and massage the detectives legs.  
“Stay there,” John commanded gently after taking the glass back and lying Sherlock back. John ran into the loo and returned with a warm, wet flannel and proceeded to clean Sherlock up, starting with his face before gently cleaning his abused hole and the semen drying on his stomach.  
John lazily tossed the flannel in the general direction of the hamper before pulling the duvet back over the bed (it had been folded back over the foot board before John had tied Sherlock down).  
John crawled in bed with the drifting man. Sherlock immediately curled himself around John's form and let out a content sigh.  
John chuckled, “Everything okay, Love?”  
“Perfect,” Sherlock breathed out before his breathing started to even out as he fell asleep.  
John smiled at wrapped his arms protectively around his sub. John allowed himself to doze off with Sherlock, figuring they would both be up again and full of energy in an hour or two, but that was perfectly fine with John, it was all fine.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one is really REALLY fluffy, sorry. Not betaed or britpicked, again sorry.

John sat in his armchair drinking tea and checking the comments on his blog. The blog couldn't keep his attention for long though. His thoughts drifted to Sherlock and the time they had shared together. They had been merely flatmates for a year and a half and then they were lovers.   
It had started, not after a case, but a quiet Sunday afternoon. John was reading the paper while Sherlock composed. The music was soothing, full of contentment, but there was an underlying of longing in it. John had frowned and got out of his chair, silently making his way to the violinist. John set his arm on Sherlock's shoulder, startling him. Once John had his attention, he leaned up and gently kissed the mad man. John left it as a chaste kiss and sat back down in his chair.  
“I thought you were straight,” Sherlock mumbled out, his dark baritone a stark contrast from the melodic song from the violin.  
“I never claimed that,” John answered. “I said I wasn't gay, you also said you were not interested.”  
The violin screeched to a halt as Sherlock considered this new information. “I always miss something,” he muttered putting the violin down. “I will not be changing my habits, John, just because of...whatever this is,” Sherlock floundered for a moment, unsure of his footing in this new battle ground.  
“I know, I will ask for a few more compromises though. We are whatever you want this to be, Sherlock. You lead, I'll follow,” John explained.  
Sherlock huffed before walking to John, who only sat and watched him with attentive blue eyes. Sherlock leaned down and gave John a chaste kiss, a silent thank you. John may have said that Sherlock would lead, but they both knew that it was John who would lead Sherlock through the mine-field of sentiment.

The domination hadn't started until three months later. Sherlock was in the middle of a huge case, John had already wrestled the box of nicotine patches away before Sherlock could apply a fifth.   
“John, please! I can't think! I can't connect them. I know I can find them and I know I know how I just can't get my brain to work through it! It's too crowded!” Sherlock growled gripping his hair tightly.  
John had an idea, it was something he had done for a girlfriend in uni, she swore it helped clear her mind.  
“Sherlock, I may have an idea, but I need you to hear me out,” John said wrapping his hands around Sherlock's and gently loosening the grip from his hair.  
“Anything!” Sherlock growled out looking up at John. John could almost see the unorganized thoughts flitting around behind his eyes.  
John kneeled down so he was eye level with the pained man. “Sherlock, have you ever thought of submitting?” John asked him quietly, cupping his cheek in his hand.  
“What?” Sherlock asked almost confused.  
“Submission, Sherlock. BDSM. I know a few people who enjoy it, says it helps clear their heads and spice up the sex life. It might help,” John explained, watching the pieces of this puzzle clicking together.  
“You've done it before.” It wasn't a question.  
“Yes,” John answered anyways. “It doesn't have to be about the sex, I know you don't do that on cases anyways.”  
“I want to try,” Sherlock had said.  
John smiled and kissed him, allowing his tongue to push its way into Sherlock's mouth, dominating the kiss. Sherlock moaned and melted into the rough kiss.

John was pulled into the present by the slamming of the front door and Sherlock running up the stairs.   
“Sherlock?” John said seeing the man. His hair was ruffled and his eyes wild.  
“John! You have to help me! It's too loud, too much white noise. Please, John, please!” Sherlock rushed out leaning over John in his chair.  
“Oh, Sherlock. What have I told you about letting it get this bad?” John sighed. He straightened out his posture and looked hard into Sherlock's mercury eyes. “Go make me some tea, Pet,” his voice was firm but gentle. Sherlock hastened to comply.  
Sherlock brought out the tea, made just like his master liked, and knelt in front of John to give it too him.  
“Good boy,” John praised taking the offered mug. “Go get your handcuffs, which ever ones you want.” The cuffs had different meanings, the metal ones meant he needed something to ground him, leather a challenge. John smiled when he saw what Sherlock had brought him, the rarely used fleece lined, comfort.  
“Turn, Sherlock.” Sherlock had his back to John almost immediately, hands behind him.  
John cuffed the brunette's wrists together, gently kissing each fragile looking joint.   
“Face me, pet, and kneel,” John ordered softly. The detective's movements were already less jerky and more flowing as he turned and kneeled beside John's knees. “Good boy,” John praised.  
John ran his fingers through the curly mop, guiding Sherlock to rest his head on John's thigh. John petted the mad man kneeling at his side, at his mercy, and could only think of one thing to say.  
“You are so beautiful. A brilliant mind, charming wit, and physically gorgeous. A full package, and just for me. I'm the only one who gets to see you like this, aren’t I, love? I've got you,” John kept of a stream of sweet mindless praises, all heartfelt and sincere.  
Sherlock let out a sigh and nuzzled into his masters leg. His mind was slowly reorganizing, allowing Sherlock to file through all the clutter. He loved this time. John had him well taken care of, leaving Sherlock the safety to sort through his mind. He used to go to cocaine, but thinking back, he realized the drugs just allowed him to work around the mounds of unsorted knowledge. It wasn't until his and John's first attempt that he realized how big of a mess his mind palace was. John gave him the security to take his time to file away useful information and delete that which would just cloud his mind further. Sherlock's mind had never been so clear, and it took longer for the information to pile up and overwhelm him now.  
Half an hour later Sherlock let out another sigh and John watched as the last bit of tension eased from his shoulders and back. His mind was clear, now John just needed to wait for Sherlock to join him in the real world.   
John's hand had never moved from the nest of curls, and he had no plans to move it yet, unfortunately duty called and there was a knock at the door.  
John looked down to see that Sherlock had dozed off, John had no intention of waking him, Sherlock had been up for over forty-two hours already and he had no idea how long the last of this case would take him.  
“It's open,” John called softly.  
Lestrade opened the door and was only slightly surprised to see Sherlock handcuffed and on his knees.  
“I wondered where he went in such a hurry,” he muttered.  
“He seemed in a right state when he came in. It's been a long time since he was that bad,” John mused running his fingers through the nest of curls.   
“We had to go interview a suspect at a concert, I guess it overwhelmed him.”  
Sherlock started to stir, breathing picking up slightly, eyelashes fluttering before revealing sea green eyes.   
“How's your head, Pet?” John asked softly, ignoring Lestrade for the moment.  
“Organized,” Sherlock sighed. “Thank you, Sir.”  
John gently unlocked the cuffs before pulling the detective to sit in the V of his legs. It was then that Sherlock noticed the DI standing awkwardly in the doorway.  
“New information?” Sherlock questioned snuggling into John's embrace.  
John chose to ignore the conversation for now, instead paying close attention to his submissive in case of a drop. Eventually Lestrade left and Sherlock stood up to stretch.  
“You feeling better, Love?”   
“Much,” Sherlock said leaning down to kiss John lightly.  
“You know where you're going now?”  
“Of course,” Sherlock's smirk was back.  
“Want me help?”  
“Obviously. It could be dangerous,” Sherlock smiled now as John chuckled and headed upstairs to fetch his gun.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, there it is. Comments, criticism, flames, and prompts are all welcome. If you don't want to leave it as a comment feel free to come down to my tumblr http://myweregirl.tumblr.com/. Thanks for reading


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